


Chainmail Bikini

by odheirre



Category: Echo Chamber, Vampire: The Masquerade, World of Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Arena Games, F/F, NO CAPES, Not a cliffhanger because that's mean, The Echo Chamber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odheirre/pseuds/odheirre
Summary: Becca fights in the Low Court arena, and faces a tough decision.





	Chainmail Bikini

"That won't do at all." The roar of the audience from the coliseum above flooded the room like water, forcing the gnome to yell. Becca stood wearing three small triangles of chainmail in strategic places, with human and fae servants buzzing around them. Becca thought, my belt covers more than the armor. A tub filled with water stood in the corner, sloshing slowly. "You simply don't have the bust for that top. I could pad it a bit." Becca unsheathed her sword as a response, just a few inches. "Or we can leave it as is. They'll be looking at your legs anyway, trust me. You are tall, aren't you. Now turn around, slowly." She pivoted. "Definitely the legs. We'll need to do something about those scars on your back. I could see some scarring, maybe a few tasteful lines, but those are raw. How do you get away with wearing backless dresses?"

"I don't."

"Well, I can magick the scars away."

"I doubt you have anything to mask cold iron wounds."

"I see. How about a snappy cloak?"

"How about armor that will actually cover me? This is ridiculous."

"May I remind you that your Lady instructed you to follow our orders to make this demonstration successful?"

"I am fully aware of what she asked of me."

They had this conversation at the start of her three-month tour. "Becca," Felicity had said. "Queen Josephine personally asked if I would allow you to tour the Lower Courts for exhibition matches, to further the understanding between the Courts and cement the Grand Court foundation. Many of the Lower Court have heard of Maelstrom, and wish to see her fight in a non-lethal setting. How could I refuse? Follow your handlers' instructions to the letter, and do not kill anyone from the Lower Courts. They are technically our allies now, remember." Felicity reached out to Becca's dark hair, brushing it away from her face. "Some may think we're defeated, weak, beggars and supplicants. Prove them wrong. Show them our power." Becca echoed Felicity's smile.

Becca and the gnome agreed on mundane makeup on her back, and fifteen minutes later, Becca walked through the open doors to the Low Court coliseum. She had soaked in the tub, and her skin glistened. The roar of the crowd reached a fevered pitch when she stepped into the coliseum, thousands and thousands of Low Court fae cheering and yelling and hissing. Becca looked at the crowd, felt power. She couldn't make out individual faces, but there was royalty in the rows. King Lars, even. The floor was dust and packed earth, stretching about a hundred yards. It was noon, but cloudy and overcast with no shadows. She left her sword sheathed, felt its power vibrating against her. It wanted blood. "Down, girl," she whispered to her sword. She let the roar of the ocean echo through her body.

One Fire Fae stood in the center, shirtless, pretty in a bishounen way, his voice amplified with magic. "Some of you have seen her in battle. A few of you may have crossed swords. But, now, she graces us with her presence and combat prowess to fight for our pleasure. Maelstrom! And for Maelstrom's opening fight at the Low Courts," he announced, "we have the Royal Squad under General Leah Hill. They've faced twice before, and both times the Maelstrom and her troops were successful. Can General Hill get her revenge? Welcome General Hill and her squad!"

The announcer flew up and out as the doors at the opposite end of the stadium creaked open slowly. The crowd started cheering again in anticipation. Then, Leah Hill walked out. Steel sword and real armor, Becca thought, leather. She fought florentine, sword and dagger waving to the crowd. Over her armor, she wore a general's tunic, sign of a promotion. Her posse filed behind her, some veteran but most looked new, blinking at the crowd. Becca counted heads; 21, including General Hill.

Hill saluted to Becca across the arena. "No tricks this time. Just honest fighting."

Becca saluted back. "I'm not sure about these odds. You want to get another squad on your side?"

"Your threats are as flimsy as your costume. Bring it on." The squad started to spread out in a line and advance slowly. Becca nodded at the precision. Hill was good, she thought, more of an organizer than a real combatant. Becca drew Maelstrom out in a practiced motion, flourishing the blade, catching the cold iron in the light. Decades of practice, and Becca thought it never got easier to harness cold iron. She grabbed its power with her mind and pushed it like a wave in front of her, not at full strength, but enough to give the squad pause. She felt the panic in the troops, saw them falter a bit, hesitate. And that's when she struck, summoned the Maelstrom's power and bolted into their left flank. She knocked six of them to the ground before they could react. She used the flat of the blade, but the cold iron left marks and broke bones. Becca felt the sword sing, and half of the troops still standing scattered. One of the guards haphazardly swung at Becca; Becca caught the sword near the hilt and twisted it out of his grasp. She stepped forward and he bolted, leaving his sword.  

Take a breath, Becca told herself, and focus. Hill was fifteen feet away, biding her time, letting the troops tire her out. Four fire fae veterans circled to her back, striking distance, and six soldiers in front lined up with shields linked, defensive, moving close. Others were scattered. The crowd yelled. Give them what they want, Becca thought. She leaped backward into the middle of the group of veterans. She nicked three of them with a quick swipe of the blade, but the fourth lunged at her back. Becca felt the back of the bikini top snag with the blade, then the chain link rip open. She grabbed the top with her left arm, swinging around with her blade at the fire fae. The veteran turned to flame to evade, but the cold iron cut through the flame and the fae dropped to the ground.  

Breathe and focus. The ocean roared inside her. The soldiers left were all focused on defense, spears and shields bristling. Hill was behind them. The bikini top was near useless. "You think you can defeat me by attacking my modesty?" Becca yelled at Hill.

"I told them to save the final blow for me, but they were allowed to amuse themselves however they wished. You think you can fight us with one hand holding your top?"

"Watch me." Becca jumped forward to the two left troops, planting one foot on their shield and pushing. First one fell, then the others followed suit, their shields linked together. Spears were tangled and dropped, and Becca dispatched them easily, non-lethal blows, blocking the occasional blow from Hill.

Hill was skilled and not winded, but Maelstrom fed from the battle and was asking for blood. Becca scolded the sword and gave the crowd a good sword fight. It wouldn't help anyone to end the fight soon. And Hill was good if a bit defensive, Becca reflected, and she had both hands free. Hill's knife cut Becca's skin several times, but her skin flowed like water, healing afterwards. After ten minutes of fighting, Hill stepped back and responded to a feint, leaving her wrist open. A quick cut, and Hill's sword was on the ground. Becca could see Hill start to jump for the sword, wondering who was quicker, and then Hill lowered her gaze. "I surrender."

"Accepted. I ask three things of you." The crowd silenced. "First, a glass of water?" Hill motioned to one of her troops still cowering in the corner, and he ran off. "Second, you earth fae are so good with metals. Can you fix this?" Becca turned around. She could feel Hill's hands pull the bikini top together, the metal fuse together. "Fine." Becca turned back. "Third, I do ask for your tunic. Something covering me would be nice for the next fight. Your armor wouldn't fit, but the top should do."

Hill shrugged, took her tunic off, and handed it to Becca. "Anything else I can do for you? That tunic took me a while to earn."

"And I will treasure it. Oh, one more thing," Becca said as she slipped on the shirt. "Stand still." Eight strokes of Maelstrom, and Hill's armor and underclothes were on the ground in tatters. Hill stood unmoving, her expression not changing. "That was very petty of you." The foot soldier came up behind her with the canteen of water. Hill nodded, and the soldier handed Becca the waterskin.

Becca looked at Hill approvingly, then drank. "I never claimed I wasn't." The crowd was jeering and cheering. "I wouldn't think a Low Fae crowd would be happy to see one of their own defeated. Guess we are on the same team now."

"Well, I've always liked you, but not all of us think that way. Adaro is looking to make a name for himself, and doesn't mind doing permanent damage to get ahead. And he has cold iron. By the way, thanks for not killing any of my troops."

"And thanks for the warning. Good fight." Becca held out her hand.

Hill's grip was solid when they shook hands, all calluses and rough skin. "You too."

The fire fae announcer appeared in a flash on the battleground. "Such a touching end to a ferocious battle. We've seen Maelstrom fight a troop, and even saw her go mano a mano, as it were, but what about cold iron versus cold iron? We have Adaro, the Champion of the Hearthstone, ready to cross weapons with Maelstrom. Welcome him, although the faint of heart may wish to look away from this fight!" The crowd continued to cheer as Becca saw a figure come from the opposite side of the stadium. He was over seven feet tall, had a good reach. His axehead was cold iron, mounted on a steel hilt. It was a two-handed weapon, but he swung it easily with his right arm, an oversized, over-muscled monstrosity grafted onto his shoulder. Becca saw a sneer and pointed teeth under his helmet. His axe radiated pressure, raw power, and Becca flinched slightly.

Breathe and focus. Adaro moved slowly across the arena, a lumbering trot, and Becca walked to meet him in the center. The crowd grew silent, and Becca's vision narrowed to just Maelstrom, Adaro, and Adaro's axe. Ten feet before they closed, Adaro started swinging the axe in a tight figure eight, the air whistling. The pressure increased, and Becca clinched her teeth together. Becca stopped, moved left, and Adaro shifted his stance to keep the axe between them. She jumped up and over him, and the axe almost clipped her foot as she landed behind him. She somersaulted out of his reach as he slammed the ground where she was. He resumed his defensive posture, keeping his distance. Becca feinted, probed, but could not get past the axe. She could tell the crowd was getting restless, bored. Adaro didn't look winded at all. "Come, girl, try that again, see if you can bounce out of my reach again."

They traded blows again, Maelstrom not getting reach beyond his axe, Becca dodging blows. Becca thought, in a hundred years, when he fully attuned to his weapon, he'd be a terror. "I heard you were given your weapon from a deal, not earned in battle like a true warrior," Becca said. "Your weapon is bigger than you. It takes skill to wield something that powerful."

"I have skill enough to wipe you from this arena." He lumbered forward, but Becca easily sidestepped and nicked him on the return. He winced. "Your kind are done, you just don't realize it yet. The High Court is vanquished, and your kind are going to be servants and maids for the real warriors. Oh, you know something about being a servant, right?"

Trying to push buttons. "Your right arm seems pretty well developed compared to your other arm. Could it be your extracurricular activities? I mean, you're obviously had a lot of alone time."

Adaro moved forward, pressing. "Just throw the fight and run to your bloodsucker slut." Becca stepped forward in the range of the axe, and Adaro changed its course, bringing it down. Becca stepped to one side, catching a glancing blow on her off-hand shoulder. Maelstrom whipped to her side, and with a single strike and her forward momentum, she thrusted the blade under his right armpit, under his armor. Becca pulled towards her and his arm fell to his side, muscle and joints and tendons severed. Blood splattered across her face and her tunic. He dropped his axe, fell to his knees, yelling in an inhumane voice.

Becca rushed him, knocking him to the ground, Maelstrom's edge at his throat. "Take that last statement back, swear an oath to me," she whispered to him, "and I'll let you live." I need currency, Becca thought, some political force to use against Felicity.

He was going to give an oath, could feel the power of his intentions, then a disembodied voice entered both their heads, rasping and old. "Becca Wash, Adaro of the Hearthstone, both yield." Adaro smiled a bloody smile, spat blood into her face.

Becca wiped it away, pushed Adaro to the ground, and lifted Maelstrom to the crowd, covered in blood. Becca looked at her shoulder, scraped with blood and cold iron, the tunic ripped where the blade caught it. She found she could still move her left arm, and with it, she grabbed the axe, its head still resting on the ground. Pain arced through her shoulder. "The Low Court has many fine warriors, but Adaro was not one of them and does not deserve such a fine weapon." I'd never use such an inelegant weapon, Becca thought, but might as well get something out of this battle. "By rite of combat, I claim this weapon to do as I wish." The crowd erupted in noise, cheering and hollering. Her mouth felt dry, and her knees started buckling under her. Breathe and focus.

The fire fae announcer said something, but Becca tuned him out. It was her last battle. Under cheering crowds, she dragged the axe to the holding area under the arena. The gnome looked at her disapprovingly. "I see where you got those scars. You need anything?"

"Water. The tub." She pulled the tunic over her head, wincing when the fabric rubbed over her shoulder, and stepped into the tub. Human servants poured water into it, and Becca sighed and closed her eyes. With her good hand, she pulled off the chainmail bikini and dropped it outside the tub. "Stupid armor," she muttered. The water felt good on her skin, and she let herself relax and sink under the water.

When she woke up, the gnome and the servants were gone, and everything was still. The fire fae announcer sat motionless, staring, perched on a stool. He radiated heat and a dim red glow, the only light in the room. "About time you woke up."

"Sorry, I was doing something a bit more strenuous than speaking. Shouldn't you be announcing the rest of the fights or something?"

"The battles are over for today. I commend you on your performance. You have earned your reputation."

"Thanks." Silence. "I'm assuming you are not here just for that?"

"A Lord of the Low Fae who wishes to be anonymous said to tell you he will not tolerate any continued attempt to wrestle oaths from your opponents." Fuck, Becca thought. "He is also not happy about losing the Axe of the Hearthstone, but abides by the rules of combat and recognizes your claim. But know that we control the constraints of the arena, and we will not make that mistake again. That was the stick. Now, the carrot. I bring an offer from him. He proposes a three-way trade between you, your Lady, and himself. He wished to get your agreement first. This is a binding conversation and I speak for this Lord."

"I understand. I do not speak for my Lady. What are your terms?"

"The Lord has something that your Lady covets very, very badly. He is of need of a geas from a Kindred, and understands that you have one, unlimited by time."

"There are restrictions on the favor. It cannot be used to betray her own, or cause her final death."

"Trifles." He waved his hand. "The Lord is well aware of the restrictions, and he accepts them. The proposed trade is you transfer the Kindred's geas to him, he gives something to your Lady, and your Lady releases you from her servitude. The three of you can work out the details to your satisfaction."

"I see." Becca forced herself to stay in the tub. "My Lady has been loathe to give up her control over me. Does your Lord truly believe that she will do so?"

"Yes. The Lord demands an answer now. Do you pledge to do your part in this bargain, trade what is owed to you for your freedom?"

Becca had told herself she'd do anything to be free, to fight under her own command. Even if that bitch Felicity were to gain something, she'd accept that as a necessary loss. She thought of Jen, the conversation where she got her promise of a favor, her honesty and charm and devotion to her kind. Could she betray that? What good is it to be free but not be able to pursue what she wanted? Hell, she thought, I don't know what I want, except maybe to hit something really, really hard. She felt Jen's favor in her heart, along with the geas Jen had on her. It's been an accustomed burden, she thought, and tried to picture it gone without success.

"I reject that deal, but propose a counteroffer. Let me meet this Lord in person with a full disclosure of his identity, and we shall talk about a deal between the two of us." Get the wording right. "We will meet in person at a time and place agreeable by both of us, within twenty-four hours of now. The future deal may include my direct brokerage with the Kindred or my favor with the Kindred." I have carrots and sticks of my own. "In trade, I will not mention either this exchange or the future one to my Lady or any other Fae of the Grand Court. I also demand an offer now."

The fire fae said nothing at first. Becca realized that she stopped breathing during the silence. Then, "The Lord accepts that deal and will summon you within that time period." He unfolded himself from his stool and disappeared in sparks and embers, leaving the room in darkness. Becca sighed and let herself sink into the tub.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not canon. It might have happened, might not have.


End file.
